


lullaby

by tsunderestorm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Dorothea soothes Ingrid after a nightmare.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akhikosanada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akhikosanada/gifts).



> I requested some prompts on my twitter and Cha asked for dorogrid and the prompt "jolting awake after a nightmare and being comforted". ♥

_Blood. Carnage. Mangled limbs turned at unnatural angles, caved-in cuirasses and gauntlets stained with blood from both sides of the battle. Fire, traveling so fast and so close even just the heat of the air seared her face and burned her lungs, and then there was Glenn. Glenn, with his smirking mouth open in an unholy scream, the elegant cut of his jaw hanging all wrong, his skin wrinkling like burning paper in the battle’s flames. Then the world turned, slamming her down onto it beneath hoofbeats of thundering warhorses. Dust in her mouth: choking, coughing, retching, barely avoiding being crushed onto to be lifted up by her loose braid and dragged onto the back of a warrior’s steed. Hands, unfamiliar, too rough, clawing at her cloak, her tunic, her leggings._

Ingrid jolted out of sleep so fast it knocked the wind out of her, gasping for breath as she tried to orient herself. Here was their bed with its crimson velvet drapes, their bedroom with its familiar angles and not a dead friend or barbaric man to be found. A candle burned down to wax on the bedside table was still flickering, casting dancing shadows across Dorothea’s sleeping face and that… that was what did it. She was fine. She was safe, and as much as she tried to swallow it, her traitorous throat betrayed her and she let out a sob.

Dorothea awoke, instantly alert with none of her bleary mumbles of _beauty sleep_ and rolled over, reaching out a hand before thinking better of it, sitting up before she reached for her. She sat against the headboard, tugging Ingrid into her arms before she could belittle the nightmare she’d just had, before she could insist she was strong, steady, the ever-untrue “ _fine_ ”. 

“What was it?” Dorothea asked, smoothing Ingrid’s hair as she rocked softly, tucking her lover’s head against her chest. “I know you had a nightmare, so don’t bother lying to me.”

Ingrid inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, clutching at the collar of Dorothea’s nightie as she pressed her face into her chest and tried to calm her breaths. “Mmhm,” she mumbled. “I did, but… it doesn’t do any good to talk about it. It’s over. It was just a dream.” 

“I have nightmares too, you know,” Dorothea said, smoothing her hand up Ingrid’s back. She couldn’t feel the bumps of her spine anymore, couldn’t see her ribs through the muscle she’d worked for and the weight brought by good eating. No longer a hungry girl held back from her dreams, but a knight in her own right. A woman Dorothea was proud of, even when she was stubborn and walled off. 

“Of course you do,” Ingrid sighed. “That’s why I feel so foolish.”

She stroked her fingertip down Ingrid’s nose feather-light, little finger pressing the tip of her nose as a tease before she said, “You know, it’s not black and white. Just because someone else has a problem, doesn’t mean you don’t, too. It’s always so black and white with you nobles, I swear!” 

It was good-natured, but still Ingrid pouted. Dorothea laughed and kissed the top of her head, smoothing down the strands that had come loose from the braid she slept in. When it proved to be too difficult an undertaking for even the most dauntless warrior, she brought her free hand up to untie the band at the end and let it fall down around her shoulders. She wore it shorter than she had at the academy but longer than she’d kept it during wartime, an in-between length that suited her perfectly and could still be pulled back. 

“I’m just _teasing_ ,” Dorothea said, and it brightened Ingrid’s face considerably. “You know I have to poke fun at my _noble_ wife. Do you want to talk about it?”

Ingrid shook her head. No, she didn’t. It was always the same, anyway, and Dorothea knows her well enough to probably guess. It was always Glenn, dead in the Tragedy of Duscur; Dimitri, dead in Gronder field and choking on his own blood as he demanded _why did you leave your king_ , the man who’d tried to kidnap her morphing into a hundred faceless men. Dorothea’s heard, and she’s matched then with a few demons of her own. In fact, if you asked Ingrid, Dorothea had seen way worse than she had in all of her years at the opera, but she got mad if Ingrid said so. 

Dorothea started humming, quiet at first and growing louder. It took Ingrid a moment to recognize the melody, but she soon found herself humming along quietly with an old wives’ tale turned lullaby that she hadn’t heard since childhood. Dumfounded, she sat back to look Dorothea in the eye, smiling despite the unease that still had her chest tight and stomach in knots as she asked, “You know old Faerghus lullabies?”

“What kind of opera diva would I be if I only knew songs from the capital?” Dorothea teased, placing a finger against Ingrid’s lips to quiet her. “I know arias from Enbarr, Almyran folk songs, work songs from the factories of Derdriu… once we even had a performer at the theater who said that he’d escaped Sreng, and he taught us a song his clan sang at their battle rituals. Doesn’t it make sense that I’d make a point to, with my Galatean wife, learn some songs from Faerghus?”

Tears welled up in Ingrid’s eyes not from the nightmarish sights that had tormented her in her sleep, not of guilt or grief or anything but warm, overwhelming love. “You’re so talented, Thea. It’s beautiful. I think… I think someone who loved me used to sing it to me.”

Dorothea laughed, melodic and so loud it seemed to spread to every corner of their dark bedroom, lighting it up more than a dozen candles ever could. “Well, Ingrid... someone who loves you is singing it right now!”

When Ingrid drifted off into a deep sleep that nightmares dared not touch again, it was with her hand clasped tightly in Dorothea’s and a smile on her face. 


End file.
